Deliver Me From Evil
by SlimReaper
Summary: Written for a prompt on norsekink, full prompt inside. Loki's bereft of magic, asks Thor for help, gets turned down-Captain America to the rescue! Rating may change, dunno yet. Norsekink is eating my brain.
1. Chapter 1

This is a fill done for this prompt, still a work-in-progress:

_Something disables Loki's magic, leaving him akin to a normal human._

_Problem is, he's been so entrenched in his magic for so long that he almost can't physically function without it. He goes to his brother for help, and none of them are buying it, but instead try to find out what the trickster god is planning (eg: Fighting him as if he were a god, remarking that gee, he's really taking this act to the hilt when they beat the snot out of him, etc etc. Except Steve because Goddamn Captain America does not swing that way) . H/C when the truth outs?_

_Option: I'm calling this optional because Mpreg usually gets sniffed at, but oh my god, so many kittens and puppies and rainbows and dancing girls/boys/llamas/whatever floats your boat if Loki is pregnant and the*pregnancy* causes his loss of magic, but he tries to hide it due to Odin the Serial Baby Snatcher._

_because, dammit, there's something about broken, helpless hiddles!Loki that is just so hummninamhumina. Add mpreg on top? *dies* I know, I'm a bad bad person._

I really should never have found norsekink. I believe it shall eat my entire life from here to eternity. DAMMIT NORSEKINK WHY ARE YOU SO ADDICTIVE?

…

"I've come in peace to ask for my brother's aid."

Loki couldn't blame them all for gaping at him. Really, were the roles reversed, he could think of all kinds of ways to take advantage of a situation like this.

He was counting on Thor's mortal friends having a better acquaintance with honor than he did.

"I need Thor's help," he repeated when the three Avengers just stared at him like he was a freak at the carnival. Well, again, Loki could understand that–and they only knew the half of it–but despite the fact that he was used to such looks, it didn't make receiving them any more fun. "I will wait out here while you notify him that I'm here," he added, hinting strongly when they remained frozen.

That seemed to break Nick Fury out of his stasis. "Like hell you will. I'm not taking a chance on you vanishing again."

Loki sighed as the Avengers' imposing commander grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip. "Really, is this necessary, Colonel?" he asked dryly as he was dragged inside with, in his opinion, far more jerking and shoving than was called for. "I came here of my own free will. Do you think I would vanish on you so quickly?"

"You might do anything," Black Widow growled, seizing his other arm and twisting it up behind his back when Captain America didn't step forward to do so. "This isn't the first time you've shown up here. Your reception is entirely of your own doing."

Loki shrugged, then winced as his hand was shoved forcefully higher. This was the trouble with the Avengers, he mused as he was frogmarched through the mansion. They took things so _seriously_. What these Midgardian superheroes failed to understand was that all of his hijinks were merely high-spirits, only a bit of fun. A simple, playful diversion for them all with no malice at heart.

Well, most of it. Some of it, anyway. The ice-cream thing, at the very least.

"Please, Agent Romanoff, Colonel Fury, I'm rather attached to my arms and I'd like them to continue being attached to me," Loki said as the pair steered him roughly down to the basement where he knew from personal experience the cells were located. "Thor might object if you damage me before he gets to hear me beg so prettily for his help."

"Ease up, okay?" Steve Rogers finally weighed in. "Come on, guys, he's not even fighting."

Neither relaxed their grips one bit. "Last time we fought, he broke my favorite dagger," Natasha snarled. "I think he owes me for that."

"I'd be happy to replace it for you," Loki offered, safe enough in knowing she'd never take him up on such an offer. And remembering that battle which had ended with her weapon in pieces before him and his own knife in her leg, he couldn't resist adding, "I, too, know the value of a good blade."

She hissed like a cat and Fury tightened his own hold. "In here," he said when they reached an open door. The command was unnecessary as he and Romanoff shoved Loki inside and slammed the door.

"I do trust you'll notify my brother I'm here," Loki called, hearing them walk away. They'd leave him to stew for a while, of course–he knew the drill. "Until then, I'm sure I'll be quite comfortable here. Thank you for the hospitality."

Alone now, Loki surveyed the room and sighed again. The one-way mirror on the far wall reflected the barren room–severe steel table, two matching chairs, blank white walls, and one God of Mischief. He ignored the straight-backed chairs and laid down on his stomach across the table instead–thankfully he _could_ still lie on his stomach. In a perfect world, he would've been cushioned on a feather mattress with some soothing ointments as well, but Loki's world had never been anything near perfect. At least his back was a bit less agonizing in this position.

As comfortable as he was going to get, Loki laced his fingers beneath his cheek, closed his eyes and waited for Thor.

This was going to be… interesting.

To say the least.


	2. Chapter 2

It was ten and a half hours before Thor arrived.

By this point, every muscle in Loki's body ached and the fatigue alone was enough to make him want to pound his head on the metal table until unconsciousness gave him the rest that sleep denied him. Hiding all this, Loki opened his eyes and turned his head to watch his brother stride in.

Tall, broad as a mountain and twice as immovable when he wanted to be, Thor wore his Æsir armor and carried Mjolnir at his side. "Ahh, the son of Odin finally graces me with his presence," Loki drawled, swinging his legs down and sitting up as gracefully as though nothing was wrong. "I'd curtsey, but I'm afraid my legs have fallen asleep."

"Brother," Thor said, inclining his head slightly without taking his eyes off Loki for an instant. Like Black Widow, he'd also had several memorable lessons in caution when dealing with the Trickster god. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Loki smiled and spread his arms, the very picture of innocence. "Cannot a man call on his brother for purely social reasons?"

Thor raised one blond eyebrow. "When it's you? No. What do you want, Loki?" Then, the cold, suspicious expression cracking for just a moment, "Steve said you mentioned needing help?"

That crack, brief as it'd been, was what Loki had been waiting for. If Thor had continued to look at him with only distrust, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to actually say it. That glimpse of real brotherly concern made it possible to force the words out, though. Loki stood, straightened his clothing with a few neat tugs, and finally met Thor's gaze. "The good captain has the right of it. I did indeed come to request your help, or more to the point, your protection," he said at last. He took a deep breath and just said it. "My magic is gone, brother. Bound away where I cannot access it. As you can imagine, without it I am at something of a disadvantage in my usual circles."

Thor frowned. "Loki, your magic is only one part of what makes you dangerous," he replied, not relaxing his stance as Loki had hoped he would. "If your tongue was bound and your mind clouded as well, then I would think you helpless."

"Much as I appreciate your faith in me," Loki said dryly, "I would hate to try to talk my way out of–"

Thor cut him off with a raised hand. "You are the God of Lies, brother, and you have taught me well not to take you at your word."

Loki sighed. Sometimes his well-earned reputation really did bite him on the ass, but he'd still hoped to avoid this. Apparently a thousand years of brotherhood could be poisoned by a mere decade of high spirits. "If it is proof you require, I can provide it," he said wearily. Reaching down, he unbuckled his coat and draped it over the chair, then carefully tugged his tunic off, too. Bare-chested in the harsh florescent lights, Loki turned so Thor could see the ruin of his back.

Even through the one-way mirror, Loki could hear someone say _holy shit._ It was a sentiment he deeply agreed with. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse, too–slashes and gouges, bruises and the raised, bleeding ridges from his own whip had ravaged his once-perfect pale skin. "Do you really think I would have allowed this to happen had I been capable of stopping it?" he asked with a calm he did not truly feel. "Or, failing that, escaping it? I am many things, brother, but a masochist has never been one of them."

Thor's frown deepened, but Loki suddenly shivered at what he saw in those blue eyes. It wasn't brotherly concern reflected there, or horror at the state of him. It was… was that actually _satisfaction?_

No, it couldn't be. Thor understood their games. He knew that as gods, they played with worlds. It was all for fun, a way to stave off the immortal's greatest enemy–boredom. And he had never been one to take pleasure in another's pain. Loki had to have been mistaken.

"And you want my aid, to protect you from those who did this to you."

It was a statement, not a question, but Loki answered it anyway. "Yes. I've made a few enemies in my time here–" and that was an _under_statement, "–and my good friend Victor let the news of my… unfortunate condition… slip." He picked up his shirt and delayed the agony of putting it back on by smoothing the wrinkles from the material. "You could say the sharks have scented blood and are circling."

Finally he turned to face Thor head-on and spread his hands. "I place myself in your custody, if that is what you wish," Loki said, swallowing the bitter taste of his pride. He hadn't thought he would have to ask. Once Thor understood the truth of Loki's loss of magic and all that meant, he'd truly thought his brother would offer to protect him. "Here's your chance. Lock me up, punish me for my crimes. Bring the wicked Loki to justice at last." He smiled. "I'm sure you have a cell picked out for me already. I can hardly wait to see it."

_Just don't leave me at their mercy, brother, please. They have none._ These words, at least, Loki left unsaid. He was being nauseatingly humble already. There was no need for him to actually beg.


	3. Chapter 3

Still, Thor didn't immediately agree. In fact, for a long time he didn't speak at all. Loki's smile faded and he covered his sudden discomfort by slipping his tunic back on–and by Yggdrasil's roots, that _hurt_–while he waited for his brother to extend the offer of his protection. Knowing Thor, he would also vow revenge for the wounds he'd suffered, and although Loki was usually happy to exact his own revenge, this once he'd let his big brother do the honors. He had a few other things on his mind right now.

Finally Thor took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. Loki looked expectantly at him, relieved that this humiliating groveling was over and already preparing his thanks in his mind–not too grateful, mind, since he'd be gaining protection by being locked away, but just enough to let Thor know he appreciated it all the same. "No," Thor said, and Loki had already begun to form the words of his reply before it actually sank in.

"No?" Loki echoed the word, unable to believe he'd heard correctly.

_"No,"_ Thor repeated. He shook his head just in case saying it wasn't clear enough.

Of all the outcomes he'd imagined, this had never entered Loki's mind. It just wasn't possible. "You're not going to lock me away?" he asked, nearly dumbstruck by the improbability of it all. "I'm handing you your victory on a silver platter, brother, and you just say no?"

"That's right. _Brother_." Now Thor spat that word with all the bitterness Loki usually put into it. If it was possible for him to be even more stunned, that did it. "I don't believe you. I don't trust you. And I'm not going to install you in SHIELD headquarters so you can unleash whatever new scheme you have planned for us this time. No, Loki, I've finally learned the lesson you've been trying to teach me ever since we came to Midgard. You're not to be trusted."

Loki's fists tightened on his jacket. Of all the times for his loyal, trusting, too-loving brother to finally get a clue, it had to be now? _Now_, when Loki actually needed all those traits he'd railed against so many times? Truly the Norns were bitches who loved to fuck with him.

"Thor, this is no lie," Loki said, keeping his voice level with an effort that showed nowhere but in his eyes. Finally he made himself say what he was sure Thor already knew, but hearing it aloud might change his mind. "And you also know why I have no magic. You know exactly what causes this."

Another flicker in those blue eyes–the briefest hint of pain, of concern, before it was brutally choked off and shoved down. "Yes, I do know," he replied as levelly as Loki.

The leather creaked in Loki's hands from the force of his grip. "And you would still throw me to the wolves?" It was unbelievable. It was impossible.

It was _happening_. "I would," Thor said, and he turned his back on Loki and knocked on the door. "For you are the one who chose to lie down with them, brother." Then the door opened and he was gone.

Loki stared at the smooth white door for a long time, stunned. He'd really been turned away. He had presented himself helpless, had exposed his handicap, had admitted his great weakness, and Thor had _denied_ him!

Loki's mind refused to let go of it and move on, to plan what he would do next. He couldn't believe he truly _needed_ to plan what to do next. This was supposed to be the part where they took him down to the cells, to the nice, clean, and above all _safe_ cells, so he could hide himself away until this was over and his magic returned.

This was not supposed to be the part where he was chucked out on his ear to fend for himself while the elite of Midgard's supervillains hunted him down. They would capture him and revel in the chance to take him apart piece by piece and see how he worked. Even if they didn't find him, Odin would. And what that bastard would take would hurt worse than anything the Masters of Evil could inflict upon him. Oh yes, Loki had been through _that_ before, as Thor well knew, damn him.

And to think, of the two sons of Odin, _he_ was the one they called Betrayer.

Too soon, the door opened again. Steve Rogers stood in the doorway, looking somehow enormous and awkward and adorable all at once in his civilian clothes. "I guess we're letting you go," he said, sounding as confused and wrong-footed as Loki felt. Clearly he didn't understand one tenth of what had gone on here, but what he did understand, he didn't like. "I, um, volunteered to see you out."

"Do you have to?" Loki quipped, and although he tried to give his usual smirk, it didn't feel right on his face.

It must not have looked right, either, because Steve frowned. "Is it true? Is your magic really–"

"I have some wounds you could rub salt in, mortal. Please feel free to do so while you gloat," Loki snapped. It was bad enough that he'd groveled, worse that it had been witnessed, and horrible that he'd been turned away. He was less than interested in having a recap of his humiliation with freaking Captain America of all people. "I'm sure it would increase your satisfaction."

Cap shifted uneasily before meeting Loki's eyes for the first time. "Look, before you go… about your back… if you want, I could…" He gestured vaguely.

Loki stared at him for a moment before he got it. Some of his anger drained away. "You would offer me aid, Steve Rogers?" he asked softly, and the super-soldier blushed and looked down at his feet. In spite of everything, in spite of being rejected and shamed and wanting to hide somewhere until the memory of Thor's cold dismissal faded, Loki wanted that aid–no, it was more than that. Right now he was practically mortal. Admitting that he actually _needed_ Cap's help was just one more humiliation. Bereft of his healing magic, an infection could easily cripple or kill him. And it wasn't like Loki could bandage his own back. He was the God of Tricks, not contortionism. "I am grateful for your offer. Truly," he added when Steve looked up sharply as though certain he was being mocked.

"Yeah, well…" He looked back at his feet, kicked an invisible pebble, then ran a hand through his hair and met Loki's gaze again. "Your back is hamburger, man. I wouldn't send a dog out like that," he explained with a shrug.

"I, and the dogs of the world, thank you for your consideration." Loki gestured at the door. "Please, lead the way."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the reviews! More reviews = more updates. Hope everyone has a fantastic Thanksgiving tomorrow-may you all overdose on turkey, pie, and the love of family and friends!**

.

This time, Loki was allowed to walk unrestrained. He could have laughed at that if he wasn't so off-balance by how this had turned out. It was almost funny. The one time he _wanted_to get arrested, and the Avengers were kicking him out!

"I'm going to take you to my place," Steve told him as they walked through the mansion. "I've got supplies and it'll be less awkward than here, I think. That okay with you?" Loki made a noncommittal noise that could have been agreement.

Steve led him to the front door without running into any of the other Avengers or the household staff Stark kept on hand to keep the place going. Loki was fairly certain that was no coincidence. The fewer people he had contact with, the fewer opportunities he would have to manipulate his way into staying. Steve opened the door and was descending the porch stairs when he realized Loki was no longer following.

He turned and frowned back at the God of Lies. Loki stood in the doorway as though frozen, unable to take the next step and leave the mansion. "Are you coming?" Steve prompted after a moment, bouncing his car keys in his hand.

Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He kept expecting Thor to run up, to say he'd changed his mind and Loki could stay, that he wouldn't really throw him out like this. But it didn't happen. He kept standing there, and Thor kept right on not appearing. It was time to face the facts–he would have no haven here. Safety behind, forbidden. Danger ahead, waiting. Fingers clasped tight on the doorframe, Loki steeled himself to take the next step.

_What next, what next, what the fuck do I do next?_

A rough hand clasped his shoulder, but gently. "Hey," Steve murmured, and Loki opened his eyes to see the Captain looking at him with all the concern he'd expected to see from Thor, and not a little confusion. "Come on, man, you're ruining your badass image here. Let's go."

Loki shook himself out of it and dropped his hands from the doorframe with a serious effort. Not trusting his voice, he nodded curtly and let Steve lead him to the car.

It was a convertible, a fast little two-seater with the top down. "One of Stark's?" Loki asked. It wasn't much of a conversation starter, but it was all he felt up to right now. _What the hell do I do next?_wouldn't be a good ice-breaker either. And it wasn't like he really expected Captain America would know the answer to that question, anyway. This wasn't a situation the super-soldier would ever find himself in, not unless that super-serum had a few extreme side-effects they'd neglected to mention.

Steve nodded. "He says I drive it like an old woman, though," he said with a little smile.

Thinking of his own condition, Loki was happy to hear that. "Works for me." A car wreck would be the perfect cap to the shitfest that was today. He wouldn't put it past the Nords to arrange something similar. They did so love to kick him when he was down.

True to his word, Cap did drive the little sports car like an old woman. He obeyed every single traffic safety law and perhaps even made up a few. He yielded to buses, pedestrians, and possibly the passing butterflies. If Loki hadn't seen the man drive a motorcycle like a bat out of Hel, he'd have honestly thought he was afraid to drive.

Finally they pulled up in front of a little ranch-style home. It was so much what Loki would've expected that he found the first true smile of the day curving his lips. "White picket fence and everything," he murmured as he unfastened his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. "All you need is a puppy in the yard–" A Golden Retriever puppy came galloping around the corner from the backyard, barking wildly and wagging its tail at the sight of Steve. "I stand corrected."

Steve blushed again–really, the man blushed at everything, and if Loki hadn't currently been off-balance and desperate and needing his help, oh, the fun he'd have with that–and shrugged, opening the gate. "I like what I like," he said, deftly catching the puppy before it could run off. "Come on," he added as the puppy wriggled in his arms and licked his face with excessive glee. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Loki had taken a single step through the gate when tires screeched in the street behind him. He spun around just in time to catch a glimpse of black leather, a wicked gleaming motorcycle with smoke rising from its tires, and the flash of light off an arrow. He instinctively wrapped his arms around his middle and continued the spin, giving Hawkeye his back an instant before the steel arrow ripped through his shoulder in an explosion of pain.

"Hey, wait, stop!" Steve jumped into the line of fire as Loki collapsed, still curled up tight, and waved his arms at Hawkeye–one still holding the ecstatic puppy, who seemed to think this was an excellent game. "It's not what you think, Clint!"

Loki hissed in pain as rough hands dragged him to his feet. The arrow still protruding from his flesh made a nice counterpoint to the hot agony of his back. Perhaps if he thought of it like that, he'd be able to keep from vomiting on the man's shiny black boots. "What I think is that this bastard is coming back to HQ," Clint Barton snarled, wrenching Loki's arms behind his back for the second time today. He couldn't hold back a moan as the arrow's shaft ground against something internal that didn't appreciate the treatment one bit.

"You're a little behind the times, love," Loki managed, trying for his usual lazy smile but aware that it probably came out as a grimace. "SHIELD isn't interested in me, haven't you heard?"

"Loki turned himself in this morning," Steve said, backing him up. "But for some reason, Fury and Thor refused to lock him up."

"Then why's he here with you?" Clint demanded. His grip on Loki showed no signs of easing, which was probably just as well. Loki wasn't sure he'd be standing without it, and at least holding him up with both hands meant Clint had none free to hit him with.

"He's wounded. I was going to patch him up a little bit." Steve sounded ashamed of the urge now that he came to say it out loud.

"A bit more wounded now," Loki added, then groaned again as Hawkeye shook him to shut him up. "Come now, there's no reason to be cruel to the helpless," he chided, never able to shut up when he should.

"You've never been helpless in your life," Barton growled, and Loki laughed a little desperately.

"Oh, how I wish that were true."

Steve looked from one to the other, blue eyes wide with the innocence he'd never lost despite all the horrors he'd seen in the war. "At least bring him inside where we can talk about it without freaking out my neighbors," he finally said, apparently giving up on convincing Hawkeye to lower his guard. He put the puppy down and nudged it with his foot. "Go on, Zeus, I'll let you in later," he added.

Loki couldn't help himself. He laughed. "Zeus? Really? _Zeus?"_It seemed he was fated to be plagued by hyper blond thunder gods.

Clint shoved him up the porch stairs as Steve unlocked the door. He stumbled over the threshold–not a trick–and cried out when Clint yanked him back upright by his arms. Steve turned and frowned at him. "Geez, Clint, ease up! The man's injured!"

"It's bullshit and you know it," Barton shot back, not a bit sorry. Loki would've come out with his own cutting remarks if he wasn't so busy trying not to pass out or throw up, or possibly do both at once.

"It's not," Steve replied, and finally, something in his tone got through to Hawkeye. Steve came to Loki's side, drew his good arm out of Barton's grip and draped it over his shoulders. Loki sagged against him. Steve steered him toward the couch and spared one glance at his teammate. "You can call Thor and Fury yourself if you don't believe me. In fact, _please_call Thor and ask him what the hell's going on here, because this is pretty messed up."

.

(A/N–I wanted to have Steve say I DO WHAT I WANT, but... close enough. *wink*)


	5. Chapter 5

Loki collapsed down onto the couch and groaned again. By Yggdrasil, he always forgot how insistent pain could be without his magic until he lost it again and had to learn to suffer anew. He didn't even bother moving when Steve left him to get his first-aid kit, but Clint still stood guard over him, bow and arrow ready. It seemed that none of the Avengers could get it through their heads that _he was not interested in escaping them._

When he could take Clint's cold stare no longer, Loki finally forced his lips to move. Of all his strengths, silence did not number among them. "A masterful shot," he said, waving weakly toward the shaft in his shoulder. "Quite disabling without being fatal."

"I was aiming for your heart," Clint told him, and Loki laughed.

"Must've forgotten I don't have one of those, eh?"

"Stop it, both of you," Steve ordered, reentering the room with an enormous plastic Rubbermaid box in his arms. "Loki, can you get rid of that arrow? Otherwise I'm going to have to cut up your clothes."

"I suppose so." Loki marshaled his strength and forced himself to sit up. Then, taking a deep breath and holding it, he grabbed the arrow and snapped the point off. Agony screamed along his nerves and he let his breath out in a raw cry. "You pull it out, I can't reach," he panted, eyes closed, mouth tight.

Clint swore and Steve caught Loki when he would've fallen over again. "I didn't mean like that," he said, not making any move to pull the shaft free. "Couldn't you just have–"

"What part of _I have no fucking magic_ is not getting through to you?"

As soon as the words left his lips, Loki regretted them. He couldn't afford to scream at the one person who seemed willing to actually help him right now when he so desperately needed it. "I'm sorry," he murmured, reeling his temper back under control. It wasn't easy when he was in so much damned pain. "Just pull the thing out, will you?"

But it wasn't Steve who grasped the arrow and pulled it out with careful speed. It was Barton. "Thought you were better at putting those in than taking them out," Loki gasped, knuckles white on the couch from the effort it took not to scream again.

"Yeah, well, Steve's got his hands full." Hawkeye stared at the bloody, broken arrow for a long moment, then tossed it down on the coffee table. "Your magic is gone? Really?"

Loki actually laughed then–a real laugh that hurt like a motherfucker–and was aware that tears of pain were rolling down his cheeks as Steve efficiently stripped his jacket and tunic away. "Have I ever struck you as the type to let you shoot holes in me when I could prevent it? How many more wounds shall I take before it sinks in? Why is this so difficult for everyone to believe?"

"Possibly it's just because it's never happened before," Steve commented, pressing handfuls of gauze to each side of Loki's shoulder to slow the bleeding.

That stopped Loki's near-hysterical laughter as though it'd been cut off by a switch. "Oh, it's happened before," he said, his voice now harsh, raw, and he didn't see the look his two… captors? rescuers? exchanged at the naked pain there. Of all they'd experienced from the Trickster, they'd never encountered anything like this. "And Thor damn well knows it, and will let Odin find me again, torment me again, steal it away for no _fucking_ reason other than it's mine–"

"When?" This time Clint's voice wasn't so rough. "What's Odin got to do with this?"

Loki didn't open his eyes. "Sleipnir. Jormungand. Fenrir. Hela." He said the names with something like agony. "Vali. Narfi."

Steve looked mystified, but Clint sat down hard on the coffee table. He'd done a bit more research into Norse mythology than the super-soldier, apparently. "Your children," he breathed, horror and disbelief mingled in his voice. "You're talking about your kids."

Loki sighed, nodded, rested a hand over his abdomen. "Thor knows what it means when my magic is bound," he said, weary now, wishing he could just pass out and have done with all this pain. "It means it is being used for something else."

The silence that followed his words was long. Steve finally broke it. "Which one of you wants to clue me in?" he asked, but from his tone, Loki thought he already understood. Understood, and was either disgusted or terrified by it.

He'd put his money on _disgusted_, if he had any–another problem he'd need to address fairly soon. If anything was likely to disgust the innocent, strait-laced Captain America, a pregnant man topped the list. "It is what you think it is, Steve Rogers."

"You're… you're…"

"Pregnant." Clint finished the sentence Steve was apparently unable to.

"Yes. In a few months, Thor will be an uncle again, not that he apparently gives a damn," Loki said softly. Finally he opened his eyes to see Clint pale as milk and Steve, still holding pressure to his wounds, staring at Loki like he was just now realizing that gods weren't bound by mortal rules. "Odin has stolen every one of my children and enslaved, imprisoned, or murdered them. Every. Single. One. Sleipnir he rides like a horse, treats like he was a mere animal–the kindest fate of any of them. Jormungand he tried to drown in Midgard's seas. Fenrir, abandoned in the wilderness, tied to a tree like an unwanted hound. Hela, my only daughter, banished to rot in the realm of the dead because she was too ugly to be seen by exalted Æsir eyes."

He sat forward now, fists clenched, body shaking with rage. "But Vali and Narfi were no monsters. They were perfect, beautiful. And Odin made me watch him turn Narfi into a slavering beast and set him on his own brother. When Vali was dead, he slaughtered Narfi, then bound me with their entrails beneath the earth. My sons were murdered to teach _me_ not to be evil."

Now they both looked horrified. Loki closed his eyes again, slumped back against the bloody couch. Any energy he had remaining had left him in those words, in the memories which tormented him as no mere venom ever could have. "Can you imagine what it's like, either of you?" he asked, whispering now, arms wrapped around his abdomen again. "Knowing that as soon as your child is born, it is fated for torture or death just because it is yours? Do you think that _anything_ else could have driven me to beg for my brother's protection?"

When they didn't respond, Loki forced his eyes open again and shrugged as though it was no matter, ignoring the bolt of pain it brought. "I thought Thor would do it for Vali and Narfi's sake, if not for my own," he said, all the emotion now hidden from his voice. "He loved them and mourned their deaths almost as much as I. Or so I once thought."

Steve just stared at him, mouth open, the very picture of shocked. Clint didn't seem to be faring too much better, but at least he managed to speak. "Man, I never thought I could be on your side instead of Thor's in anything," he said, shaking his head. "What are you going to do now?"

Loki raised an eyebrow. "You just shot me. Even if I knew the answer to that question, I'm not sure I'd tell you." Then he laughed a little and shook his head. "Perhaps I'll call Doom and attempt to explain things to him. He might understand, he might not. Either way, better him than Odin."

"Those can't be your only options," Steve protested.

Loki laughed again, bitter this time. "Neither are what I would've hoped, no, but Thor denied my first choice. Now, now, don't look so upset. After all, we all know this–" he gestured to the open first-aid box, "–is just a brief moment of insanity for the good Captain here. We're still enemies. As soon as the last band-aid is in place, I'll no longer be your problem. And just think, you'll have months and months of peace while I'm, shall we say, indisposed. There's a bright side for you."

"You must really think we're cold bastards, man." When Loki cocked his head at him, Clint made a sour face. "Okay, I'll admit that I don't like helping you, but I won't stand by and watch a baby get killed. I'm an asshole, sure, but I'm not _that_ much of an asshole."


	6. Chapter 6

Loki went utterly still. This, he hadn't expected. "What are you saying?" he asked carefully. He didn't want to misunderstand, and there was every chance he had, because it sounded like Clint was going to help rather than take advantage of his weakness.

Clint tossed his bow onto the armchair and ran a hand through his hair. "Never thought I'd say this, but I got your back, Loki. Just until this–" he gestured vaguely at Loki's midsection, "–is over, mind. I still remember last time we fought–you blasted my ass through a wall. That _hurt_, dude. I'm still gonna beat your ass for it, but I can wait for a while."

"Same here." This time it was Steve who spoke, blue eyes blazing with righteous outrage. "No matter what you've done on Earth, we're talking about a baby here. Letting a kid get hurt or killed or whatever just 'cuz it's yours isn't right. I mean, we're supposed to be the _good_ guys! So yeah, Loki, you can stay here and we'll keep Doom and Odin off your back."

"And Thor can suck it," Clint finished.

Loki would never do something as crass as gaping. He just wouldn't. There had to be another word to describe a momentary lapse of thought while he tried to wrap his mind around this bizarre development. Finally he managed to close his mouth and cleared his throat while he sought desperately for something to say. "Well," he said, his voice rough, unsure for one of the very few times in his long, long life. "Well."

"Turn around and let me take care of your back," Steve offered, and Loki did so, appreciating that the Captain understood he needed a moment to process all this.

Clint clapped Steve on the shoulder, and after a moment's hesitation, he did the same to Loki's uninjured one, too. "I'm going to check in at HQ, get their story, maybe try to pick Thor's brain if I can find it," he said, and Loki snorted a little laugh. "Probably best we don't mention this so Fury can't order us not to do it, don't you think, Steve?"

Loki couldn't see Steve, but he guessed that the super-soldier nodded because Clint went on as though he'd agreed. "Probably shouldn't keep him here long, either–I know Coulson watches us no matter how many times he says he doesn't. Bastard knows too damn much not to. So I'll also be on the lookout for a good hidey-hole."

"Good plan," Steve replied, dabbing something on Loki's back that burned like hell. Then, hesitating, he added, "While he's out, do you need anything, Loki? Like, I dunno, prenatal vitamins or something?"

Despite the pain, Loki genuinely laughed at that. "It doesn't work that way, but thank you."

"I'm out," Clint said, and took his leave.

Steve silently tended Loki's back for several minutes before he finally asked the question Loki knew was coming. "So how _does_ it work, then? I mean, I read some of the myths too, but I thought it was, you know, allegory or something."

Loki hesitated, trying to decide if he should answer or not. But he supposed it wouldn't come as a shock to the Avengers that he was a god of magic. Besides, they were showing him trust. He should do the same. "It's not a physical pregnancy as you would understand it. It occurs within my body but is of a magical nature."

The hands on his back stilled. "You know, that really didn't explain anything."

"It's the best I can do," Loki replied, although it probably wasn't. After all, he'd occasionally even gotten Thor to understand magical concepts. He could explain things very well when he chose to do so. But this… he'd been mocked too many times to be eager to explain it. "Besides," he added, "it's a bit personal."

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy," Steve said, backing off immediately as Loki had known he would. So noble, the Captain! Loki would've bet his favorite magical staff that he was blushing again, too. Finally finished with the cleaning, he began smearing some kind of ointment over Loki's wounds. "I'm just confused. You're a guy, yanno?"

"When it suits me to be, yes." Loki could almost feel the confusion radiating off Steve and sighed. "Captain, you'll have to let go of your mortal notions of male or female. I am both, I am neither. I am _Loki_. That's all."


	7. Chapter 7

"That… explains it, I guess. A bit." Loki smiled at Steve's comment, and also because whatever he was smearing over Loki's back was taking a great deal of the pain away. Soon he felt the softness of bandages as Steve gently covered the wounds. But the silence didn't last. "Okay, so do you need to see a doctor or anything? Not to keep picking at you, but my cousin lost a baby after falling down the stairs, and you've been pretty badly beaten, _and_ shot."

Loki was actually touched rather than annoyed by Steve's persistence. Clear as it was that he was completely uncomfortable with Loki's "condition," he was still determined to do everything it took to make sure Loki was all right. "There is no danger of a miscarriage," he replied, taking all the mockery from his voice to show Steve how much he appreciated the concern. It wasn't easy for him, this honestly. He wondered if the good Captain would realize that. "I will answer the question you're trying to ask, Captain. All I need to carry this child to term is rest and safety. My magic will see to everything else. I'll be back to normal and able to take care of myself within a few days of the birth. Do you wish to know anything else?"

"No, that's good." Steve's relief at being able to stop his awkward questioning was clear. "That's good. Thanks."

"I believe it is I who should be offering thanks," Loki replied quietly. Now he was the one who was uncomfortable. "I… did not dare hope for your aid, Captain. You are a gentleman."

He turned and saw Steve smiling at him–awkward, blushing. Loki could understand why he had so many screaming fangirls. The man was the definition of adorable. "It's Steve, okay?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You can call me Steve. I'm not Captain America at home."

"And you may call me Lord Loki, God of Chaos, Master of Evil, Destroyer of Worlds," Loki said, inclining his head regally.

Steve snorted a laugh. "Now I _know_ you feel better," he said, and started to put away his first-aid supplies.

…

Clint killed his motorcycle and put down the kickstand. The Avengers mansion rose before him, white and shining and pissing him off. He pulled off his helmet, hung it on his handlebars, and made sure he had a good grip on his temper before he walked inside.

Thor, Fury, Stark, and the Black Widow were all in the main living area, drinking coffee and snacking on muffins while they watched Mythbusters. Clint stopped dead in the doorway, just staring at Thor in complete and utter disbelief. _Muffins? _ The man kicked his pregnant sibling out and then sat down for some TV and coffee and fucking _muffins?_

He was seriously going to have to revise his definition of _asshole_.

"I ran into Loki a little while ago," he said to the room at large. "Anyone want to tell me why we're suddenly not arresting him anymore?"

Thor didn't even look up. "My brother is no danger to us right now."

"Uh-huh." Clint tugged off his gloves, feeling his hold on his temper straining. "And why is that?"

"Brace yourself–the bitch is pregnant," Fury replied. At least he had the decency to turn and face Clint when he said it. "Thor says he can't do magic while he's expecting. Can you believe that shit?" He laughed and Thor joined in.

_Do not attempt to throw Thor down and stomp on his balls. Do not punch Colonel Fury. It will not end well. _ Clint repeated the mantra in his head until he felt a little better. "Sounds like a trick to me."

"It is not," Thor said, finishing off his muffin, throwing the wrapper on the floor, and reaching for another. "It has happened many times in the past. My brother is… unique, among the gods."

"Uh-huh." This was an understatement. "Still not getting why he's not under arrest. Seems like he can't kick our asses right now. Might be a good time to grab him."

"He wants us to arrest him." Natasha finally spoke up, raising an eyebrow at Clint. "I think you can see the problem there."

"Just because my brother has no magic does not mean he is in any way helpless," Thor agreed. "He still has his voice, does he not? He has ever done more damage with words than with any spell."

"I know of a few city blocks that might disagree with you," Tony spoke up for the first time. From the look on Ironman's face, this was all news to him. Clint reluctantly deleted his name from his personal hit-list. "Seriously, why aren't we locking him up?"

Thor shrugged as though dismissing the human's petty concerns. Clint had another brief fantasy involving his bow, an incendiary charge, an arrow, and the god's nether regions. "I am certain he was planning some mischief and just waiting for the opportunity to get in here to accomplish it."

"But without his magic, it should be pretty easy to keep it from happening," Clint pointed out. "Are we not interested in making him pay for his crimes anymore? Did I miss a memo?"

Fury sat back with a long-suffering sigh. "I'm sure he'll pay plenty, Barton."

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seveneightnineten…_ Nope, counting to ten still did nothing to stop Clint being pissed off. Who ever came up with that stupid advice anyway? "And that means what, exactly?"

Thor took an enormous bite of a muffin and, mouth full, answered, "His allies have turned on him. He has no safe haven. Have you ever heard the phrase,_ tough love_, Clint Barton? Colonel Fury has told me of this concept, where you allow one to experience the consequences of their actions without aiding them. This is supposed to make them realize the error of their ways." He swallowed hugely, slurped his coffee–damn, gods had no manners–and went on, "I have been unable to get my brother to stop his madness with reason. Perhaps this will work."

Clint was struck dumb by the sheer heartlessness of Thor's reasoning. When his voice returned, it didn't sound like his own. Surely his own voice would be screaming profanity, not speaking so calmly as though he wasn't concerned at all. "What about the baby?"

Thor shrugged, and Clint mentally promised himself that he could accidentally misdirect an arrow in their next battle to repay that bit of coldness. "My brother is known as the Mother of Monsters, did you know that?" he said dismissively. "Trust me, Clint Barton, the world loses nothing if his child never draws breath."

"Uh-huh." _ One two three four fucking bastard five cocksucking asshole six seven Goddamned coldhearted… _ "So Loki's out of it for a while. How long?"

The Thunder God shrugged again. "Who knows? It depends on what manner of beast he is incubating. Sleipnir took a full year. Jormungand, three months or so. No matter, though. He will be, as you say, _out of it_ for quite a while if I am any judge of Doom. He has a vindictive streak to match my brother's."

That's it. He had to get out of here. "Got things to do," Clint growled, and spun on his heel and walked out.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time Steve was finished patching up Loki's back and shoulder, the God of Mischief was definitely wilting.

It was another new experience for Steve. Never had he imagined seeing Loki actually show fatigue. But then again, never had he thought he'd be offering the supervillain sanctuary, or wondering if gods got pregnancy cravings, or exactly what was involved when a god who was to all outward appearances male gave birth.

It was amazing that his brain wasn't smoking.

But if one thing had been drilled into his head during his upbringing, it was hospitality. "Come on, I'll show you to the guest room so you can take a rest. You look beat–er, no pun intended," he added quickly.

Loki laughed as he wearily stood to follow Steve. "A shame, that. As puns go, it wasn't bad."

Steve allowed himself a smile in return. Another amazing realization–when Loki wasn't trying to blast Steve's kidneys out his ears, he was actually quite easy to get along with. When Thor had first joined the Avengers, he'd spent more than a few hours trying to figure out why he still seemed to hold such affection for his wicked younger brother, but now Steve could at least begin to understand it.

What he couldn't understand was why that patient, steadfast affection had suddenly run out.

"Right in here," he said, pulling his mind away from those thoughts as he opened the door to the guest room. "It's not much," he added, thinking of Thor's descriptions of Asgard and all its luxuries, "but it's yours until we can find something better. You can rest as long as you want and I promise, no one will bother you."

Loki paused in the doorway, staring at the small room. Steve fought the urge to fidget. It really wasn't much–double bed with a quilt his grandmother had made by hand, a simple dresser, bedside tables with mismatched lamps, and old-fashioned lace curtains framing the window–the room hadn't seen many guests, and certainly wasn't fit for a god. "I'm sorry it's not better," he said uncomfortably when Loki still just stood there, staring.

That broke the god out of his immobility. He glanced back at Steve with such raw emotion in his eyes, it was hard for the Captain to hold his gaze. "It is a lovely room, and it is far more than I deserve from you, Capt–Steve," he corrected himself, speaking softly, his tone almost totally emotionless in contrast with the wellspring of feeling in his eyes.

Steve felt the heat in his cheeks that meant he was probably blushing again. "It's just a room," he muttered, looking away in embarrassment.

A gentle touch on his elbow, fleeting and gone. "It is much more than that," Loki said, still in that strange tone. "Thank you." And he entered the room and closed the door gently behind him, leaving Steve confused and alone in the hall.

Instead of returning to the living room, Steve went down the hall to his little office. Tony Stark had taken it upon himself to teach the Captain some of the technology he'd missed out on during his long sleep, and now he fired up the computer and logged onto the internet. _Loki's children_, he typed into Google, and settled down to read.

It wasn't long before the roar of a motorcycle alerted Steve to Clint's return. He wasn't sorry to turn off the computer. Everything he'd read had confirmed what Loki had said–all of his children had suffered horribly at the hands of the Æsir. No wonder he feared what would happen if Odin discovered this child was on the way! Steve remembered the terrible grief and rage in those green eyes as he'd told them what had happened to his children and his gut clenched.

The motorcycle screamed to a halt in Steve's driveway and the roaring engine cut out. A minute later, the archer slammed through the front door as if it had done him personal wrong. "Those goat-fucking _assholes_," he snarled, throwing his helmet down with such force that it bounced off the hardwood floor and skidded down the hall. "Those _goddamn_ miserable pricks!"

"Hey, hey, keep it down!" Steve waved his hands desperately. "Loki's resting, you'll wake him up!"

Clint closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "It'll probably come as no shock to him that his brother's a fucking bastard," he said, but his voice was quieter now if no less angry.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's noticed. I take it you talked to Thor?"

"Him and Fury," Clint said, nodding. He threw himself down onto the armchair so hard it almost bounced him right back out. He slammed a fist into one of the arms. "I told them that I ran into Loki and found out we're not arresting him anymore. Fury thinks the whole concept of Loki being pregnant is hilarious, real or not. Bastard just doesn't give a damn, which is pretty much what I expected. But Thor _knows_ that Loki's not faking this. He confirmed that he's all but helpless while he's pregnant, and that he knows Doom and his cronies would love to take Loki apart piece by piece. And he's just fine with that. Can you believe that shit?" His voice was rising again. "He called Loki the _Mother of Monsters_ and even said the world would be better off if the poor kid never took its first breath! Of all the fucked up–"

"Shh!" Steve hissed, glancing over his shoulder at Loki's still-closed door. Then what Clint said finally sank in and his jaw dropped. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me," Clint growled. "All this time, I've known Thor's a dumbass, but I never knew he was the biggest bastard in the known universe. This is his brother's kid he's talking about!"

Steve sank down onto the unbloodied end of the couch. Damn, if he hadn't been determined to help Loki before, he definitely was now. "I just don't get it, man," he said, shaking his head, all but flabbergasted. "How many times has he argued Loki's side, begged us to give him a chance? Loki's even fought on our side before, and while he's never been exactly loyal, I haven't forgotten the times he's saved our bacon. And now that he actually needs Thor's help, he pulls this stunt?"

"Fury's been teaching him about _tough love_." Clint spat the words as though they tasted foul. When Steve didn't get it, the archer said, "Oh, yeah, forgot you slept through that. Basically if you have a family member who's a fuck-up, or on drugs, or breaking the law, you cut them off. Let them face the music without any help. It's supposed to wake them up to what they're doing wrong and make 'em want to change."

Steve frowned. On the surface, it didn't sound like a bad idea. However… "But it's not just Loki we're talking about here. There's a kid involved–a kid who hasn't done anything wrong."

"No shit." Clint jammed his hands through his hair and sat back with an explosive sigh. "It boils down to this–Thor's got his thumb up his ass and doesn't seem likely to pull it out anytime this century, so it looks like it's up to us to keep Doom and Odin out of the picture. So where are we gonna stash our god while he incubates his little stranger?"

And Tony Stark stuck his head around the corner. "Might be I can help you guys out with that."


	9. Chapter 9

…

When Clint took his rather abrupt leave from the mansion, Tony stared after him for a long minute, trying to put it all together.

Then he decided that today was not the day he'd start having self-preservation instincts, after all. "Thor, I thought you were less of a dick than that. What the hell, man?"

The blond god frowned as though honestly confused. "Of what do you speak, Tony Stark? Have I given offense to you in some way?"

Tony shook his head in sheer disbelief at the cluelessness on display here. "When did _Loki's not that bad, just give him a chance_ turn into _fuck my brother, he's on his own_?"

Thor's face reddened beneath the golden beard. "How dare you question the son of Odin?" he demanded, Mjolnir leaping into his hand, and Tony remembered just how touchy the god had always been about his brother.

"Because you're not usually an asshole." Yeah, self-preservation instincts nil, because Tony wasn't letting this go. He held up both hands to forestall his bloody death but didn't stop. "Not that I'm on Loki's side, and a pregnant dude is not something I even want to contemplate that closely, but seriously. What happened to all that brotherhood crap you usually spout off whenever Loki's around?"

Thor's rage slowly subsided. He sank back down onto the couch and let his hammer fall to the floor at his feet. "It is complicated," Thor finally replied, frowning down at his massive hands.

When nothing else seemed forthcoming, Tony shrugged. "Fine. Not like he's _my_ brother, and if you don't give a shit about your future niece or nephew, why should I?" He got to his feet and left the room before he said something to reignite Thor's fury.

A minute later he was locked in his basement workshop. "Jarvis, wakey wakey, I need info."

The AI immediately responded. "How may I serve you, sir?"

"Show me the playback of Loki's visit today, start to finish, and any conversations regarding him within the mansion from the time of his arrival until current," Stark said, sitting down to face his wall of monitors.

One way or another, he was going to find out what the hell was going on with Thor's personality transplant.

It took but an instant for Thor and Loki's conversation in the interrogation cell to begin playing before him. Tony's jaw dropped at the state of the younger god's back, but the true shocker was the dark amusement on Thor's face at the sight of it. This just wasn't fucking right. Thor might have occasional moments of sheer dickitude, but Tony had known the guy for a couple of years now and he'd never seen him take joy another's pain, even their enemies.

And when he dismissed Loki after he'd all but begged Thor for help, Tony was certain that something was seriously rotten about this whole situation. This… this was not the Thor they knew.

A few minutes later, he watched as a stunned and lost-looking Loki left with Steve. There was only one conversation regarding Loki that had occurred within the intervening time. Thor and Fury were in the living room before Tony and Natasha had joined them.

"You did the right thing," Fury said as he joined the silent, brooding Thor. "You're not his babysitter. He denies your brotherhood right up until he needs you. You were right to finally stand up and tell him no."

Thor didn't look so blasé now. He rubbed his forehead, frowning. "What if he was telling the truth about being in danger?" he said, his voice more hesitant than Tony had ever heard it. "If Odin finds him now, the torments of snake and pit will be as nothing. Perhaps I–"

"No," Fury said firmly, and Thor looked up. His blue eyes locked on Fury's single dark one and held. "No. He's on his own."

Unblinking, Thor nodded in agreement. "He's on his own," he repeated as Tony and Natasha arrived.

Tony sat back, absentmindedly tapping on his reactor as he considered the day's weirdness. Well, at least he was sure of one thing, and that was the honor of Steve Rogers. He'd told Loki he was going to render first aid when they left. From the look of Loki's back, that would be no small job. He could probably still find them still at Steve's house.

Because nothing about this added up, and Tony couldn't stand unsolved equations.


End file.
